


The Reveal - Jerry and Fam

by Animal_Arithmetic



Series: Upon These Golden Sands I Built My House of Dreams [21]
Category: Supernatural, The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Jerry and Ray are dumb but they got that fightin spirit, M/M, Reveal, Werewolf, badass geralt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22840222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Animal_Arithmetic/pseuds/Animal_Arithmetic
Summary: There's a werewolf stalking the woods behind Ray's house.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Upon These Golden Sands I Built My House of Dreams [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1614880
Comments: 24
Kudos: 549





	The Reveal - Jerry and Fam

**Author's Note:**

> no proofreading bc i'm too tired for that bullshit. we die like Renfri (I saw that elsewhere but can't remember who posted that first so I can't claim to be original. sorry) also I'm bad at action scenes and i don't give a fuck ya'll get what ya get

They were just finishing dinner when Geralt smelled it—that wet dog, sickly sweet smell that permeated the air and tainted the area as it came in through the open window. He was up in a flash, heading towards Ray’s sliding glass door to peer out into the darkness. The house sat just at the edge of the woods, not more than twenty yards away. The others were questioning him, but he ignored them, sliding the door open just enough to walk through. He slid the door shut behind him, turning his head to try to hear better while still keeping his sight on the tree line.

The wind rustled the leaves. The smell was stronger out here, more earthy but still tanged with iron and the smell of death.

A werewolf had just killed.

Human or not, Geralt wasn’t sure. But the werewolf, he knew, was nearby.

He stepped back inside and slid the door shut with a definite thud. The adults were staring at Jask, turning to him with wide eyes when he stepped back inside. The kids were just as frightened. He didn’t know what Jask had told them, but he needed to move quickly.

“Turn off all the lights,” he said, moving towards the door. It wasn’t likely that the werewolf would get past him, but just in case... “Shut all the windows, close the curtains. If you can all fit in a room that doesn’t have windows, all the better. Otherwise, put the kids there and get to a room you can defend.”

“Geralt?” asked Jerry. “What’s going on?”

Geralt paused at the front door. He needed to act quickly, needed to get his silver sword from the car before the werewolf moved on. He didn’t want them to know—he didn’t want to taint their innocence, taint the one worry-free part of his life. But he might not have a choice. “I’ll take care of it.”

“That doesn’t answer—”

“Werewolf,” he said simply. He didn’t have time to deal with their crisis. He’d let Jask take care of explaining. If he had just said wolf, they surely would have demanded they could help or that it wasn’t an issue. “Now do as I say if you want to live. Lock the door behind me. Jask, you know what to do.”

Jask was quick to usher the children towards the pantry. Dean and Sam protested, of course, but Geralt only watched long enough to see Jask push them into the pantry with a plea to stay quiet and stay inside until someone came for them. Anne slipped in and that was the last Geralt saw before he stalked out into the night.

He heard the lock click shut behind him. He was quick to make it to the car, opening the trunk to pull out his silver sword. There wasn’t time to oil it up or anything, so he just hoped that the sword would be enough. He downed one of the potions in the bag next to the sword, breathing deep as his senses strengthened.

There hadn’t been any weird deaths or injuries lately, though, he mused, so Geralt wasn’t quite sure how the werewolf had made its way all the way out there.

Oh well.

Honestly, he didn’t even want to kill it. He didn’t even know if it had killed a human or not, and he didn’t kill the innocent. It was just too close to his family and friends for him to do nothing.

Geralt jogged back to the back yard, eyes scanning the darkness and ears straining for any sound. Thankfully, the house was dark and silent behind him and hopefully they wouldn’t draw the wolf’s attention. That earthy, sickly sweet, metallic smell still permeated the air, thick and cloying and sticking to the back of his throat. Perhaps he could chase it into the woods, stalk after it through the night. The full moon was just behind the trees, slowly inching its way up.

The sliding door slid open.

Geralt whirled around, snarl ready on his lips. Ray and Jerry both, the _idiots_ , stood there, each with a shotgun in hand. Both froze, reeking of fear, when they caught sight of his eyes.

“Get back inside!” he snarled, already stalking towards them. If anything happened to them—

“We’re here to help,” said Jerry, only shaking slightly.

“You’ll get yourselves killed is what’ll happen—”

Geralt spun around, swinging his sword at the werewolf that had finally pounced out of the trees. It snarled and growled, twisting just enough that the flat side of the blade caught its shoulder. It shrieked at the contact with the silver and leapt away, hackles raised as he prowled towards his right.

“Fuck. Get inside!”

A shot rang out, nearly deafening him. The world rang and tilted as he tried to shake off the distraction. There was a high pitched yelp and another growl.

“I can handle it!”

The ringing lessened just enough for him to swing his sword once more. The blade caught in the creature’s ribs. It yelped and fell to the side.

 _Fuck_.

He was just quick enough to pull the sword out and stab it through the heart again.

Fuck.

Once he was sure it was dead, he spun around and glared at the brothers, both nearly quivering where they still stood by the back door. He was sure his eyes were still pitch black and all “terrifyingly terrifying,” as according to Jask. The brothers cowered as he stalked closer to them.

“ _What_ ,” he growled, towering over them as they fell against the house, “do you not understand about ‘stay inside, I can handle it’?”

“But—You said it was a werewolf,” Jerry stammered.

“And I admire you for your willingness to put yourself in death’s way,” Geralt said, if only a touch sarcastically. “But I’ve been doing this for eight hundred years. I know what I’m doing.”

“Eight—Eight _hundred_?”

“Did Jask not explain?”

“To be fair,” said Ray with that stupid grin when he thought he was being clever, “we didn’t really give him a chance to explain.”

Heaving a heavy sigh, Geralt rolled his eyes and walked back to his car to put the sword away. He could clean it later when he got home. The werewolf had been new, that was for sure, and he really didn’t need to have taken that potion. But, as Jask said more and more lately, it was better safe than sorry.

Fuck. He also had to go drag the werewolf back out into the woods. Hopefully he had taken it out far enough that the kids wouldn’t stumble on it.

Shielding his eyes, he walked back into the house. No reason to frighten the children, after all. The lights were back on and everyone had gathered back in the living room. The dishes had been cleared and food put away by the time he returned to the others.

“Oh, dad’s got his scary eyes,” Sam told Michael and Susan. “I think they’re cool, though. They’re all black and veiny and he can see a lot better and stuff.”

The two appropriately ooh’d and ahh’d but Geralt refused to let them look. He couldn’t deal with the screams if they found it too frightening, nor could he deal with them being afraid of him.

“I hope Jask explained some things?”

“Yeah,” said Anne, sounding hesitant. Great, now _she_ was scared of him, too. “Are you okay, Geralt?”

What?

“Eh, he’s fine,” Jask called out from the other side of the room. “It was just a werewolf. At least he didn’t get swallowed this time.”

“What?”

“Yeah, he used to do that with selkimores. He’d get eaten so he could get them from the inside.”

“Wait, are you eight hundred years old, too?”

“Too?” asked Thomas.

“Yeah, Geralt’s, like, eight hundred or something,” said Ray.

Oh good fuck could they _leave_ yet?

“Well, funny story,” said Jask, sounding like he was getting ready to settle in for his story telling. “Remember the story of how we first met? That was back in the twelve hundreds. I died and was reincarnated, which was where the second first meeting came from.”

With a heavy sign, Geralt sat down on the couch, closed his eyes, and leaned his head back in preparation of a _long_ night of questions.


End file.
